Some time ago
"Irene!" The echo of laughter from a [Maid]-[Waitress], sparked by the audacious shout from the Elf standing confidently before her, punctuated the air.
“Why not? You have never wondered what it’s like to date the enemy?” Irene replied, a playful glint dancing in her eyes as she engaged in some light-hearted banter with her colleague.
Typically, she found herself entrenched in the kitchen of the Three Roses rather than loitering around the counter, but today had warranted an exception to the rule. A Human sat brazenly inside the bakery. The word had immediately reached her since she was the most senior [Baker] present at the moment—none of the Saturnia sisters had been available to deal with this situation. It could quickly turn into apprehension from their regular patrons. However, she had cautioned her colleagues against making a fuss. Instead, she went to the front to appraise the intruder herself.
Leaning nonchalantly against the counter after engaging in a few spicy remarks, Irene allowed herself to study the unexpected visitor. She was met with the sight of a brooding Human, and a very tall one at that.
His hair, disheveled and unkempt, tumbled over his forehead, shading the hint of stubble dusting his cheeks. Yet, the attribute that struck her most was the brilliance of his eyes. She had always lived in the confines of Amorium, rarely venturing beyond, save for a single trip to a nearby lake. The memory of the lake's mesmerizing blue surface flashed in her mind, reminiscent of the man's captivating eyes.
“What, are you going to talk to him?” The [Maid] tittered, watching as Irene's gaze remained firmly fixed on the Human.
He was staring at his slice of cake, unmoving.
“Bring him some tea; I’ll come right after you. I want to see how he reacts.”
The [Maid] complied; as she approached him, Irene saw his face brighten, his features softening into a kind smile that was directed solely at the [Maid].
She wasn't particularly fond of the maid outfits that Camilla insisted on; a nod, as she understood, to Human cultural norms for servants. Camilla, however, was more interested in establishing a unique aesthetic for her bakery than the deeper implications of the attire.
She observed the man intently, examining the banter with the [Maid] and looking at his eyes with attention. Even though the [Maid] was silly and probably disturbing him, he didn’t look annoyed for even a second. Instead, he looked like he was more than happy to chat with an Elf.
He’s probably the guy Happy Bakery just hired, isn’t he?
She connected the dots, and a slight smile appeared on her face.
On any other occasion, she would have never approached a client to flirt with them. She wasn’t like that. She had bigger things to worry about—romance wasn’t one of those.
But Irene also wasn’t sure how many male Elves would be interested in a fierce [Baker] like her, who spent most of her time working, talking about work, or caring for her family. She had two younger siblings she needed to take care of and couldn’t afford to dilly-dally around.
But a Human?
There’s nothing to lose, rotten roots, she swore to herself, finding the Human’s smile worth briefly blushing over.
He’s just a Human, Irene told herself. I can play a little, can’t I? It’s not like it will go anywhere.
Always the picture of diligence and propriety, the quintessential 'good girl', Irene felt a strange pull towards indulging in something that was considered out of bounds, a forbidden temptation. It was as if she was standing at the edge of a cliff, ready to dive into the exhilarating unknown.
Again, what did she have to lose?
…
Half a day before the present
With her heart pulsating heavily in her chest, Irene forcefully removed herself from the bustling activity of the Pratus.
Her eyes bore the blazing imprint of the vilest spectacle she had ever been privy to.
I should never have trusted him.
It was a bitter realization that had been sitting on the fringes of her consciousness all along. She had always known that someone like Joey couldn’t have helped himself!
The man had talents in spades, money, and the looks to go with it. His status as a Human didn't exempt him from finding a suitable partner in a city as vibrant as Amorium. Sure, a peaceful existence here might pose a challenge, but he was...
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Sudden pain lanced through her lower lip as she bit down hard, a drop of bright scarlet blood trickling down her chin.
I should have seen it coming… I should have known better.
How could someone like Joey choose her?
I have bigger things to take care of anyway; Irene swallowed a sob.
She was not the kind to shed tears over something as frivolous as this. Had it been an actual relationship with an Elf, the waterworks might have been justified. Or if any harm came to one of her beloved siblings... but Joey?
He wasn't worth a single tear.
She pinched the bridge of her nose, drawing in a deep, stabilizing breath to regain her composure.
With Flaminia of all people?
Had this clandestine affair been happening all along?
Was it Flaminia’s ethereal beauty that had enchanted him? Irene was well-aware that she could never match up to a woman like Flaminia, but why? And wasn’t Flaminia already entangled with her brother? What rotten roots had tied this mess together with Joey? And what about Plinius…
Screw Plinius, Irene suddenly thought.
Plinius might be her brother, but he was also an idiot. His irrational hatred towards Humans had spiraled out of control. Everyone had a parent, a friend, or someone who had died in a battle against Humans.
But, so what?
They had enough problems already—Fidatus, namely. Her older brother’s health was getting worse and worse.
A good reason not to worry about Joey!
She harrumphed and stomped her way toward home.
…
“To the [Sergeant]!” Appius raised a mug full of beer as the [Soldiers] laughed raucously inside the inn, drawing gazes from every other Elf present and audible sighs from the [Innkeeper].
“Oh, come on, Appius,” Plinius smiled widely and chuckled heartily. “You know it was all you! The Slayer of worms, Appius!”
Everyone laughed, cheered, and drank.
“[Sergeant],” Appius said, slightly intoxicated with all the alcohol he had imbibed, “without your order, I could have never done it! Sure, it was my plan, but orders are orders! Cheers to the [Sergeant]!”
Another round of rambunctious cheers echoed through the inn, and Plinius found himself laughing and joking with his men.
“Rotten Humans, thinking they can just do whatever they want,” Appius cackled. “I’ll cut his head right off! Imagine how stupid he must have felt when he found out that he wouldn’t be able to use any magic!”
Finzius, the thin and ugly man with a face plastered with red pimples, clapped his hand on Appius’s shoulder.
“Boss, you outdid yourself! That must have been the most ingenious plot we have ever seen from you! [Sergeant], you better consider this man for a promotion when you make it to [Captain]!”
In a different setting, Plinius might have taken umbrage at this remark, seeing it as a slight to his authority. However, amidst the merry fervor and daytime merriment, it felt more like a compliment.
“No one could deny that Appius is deserving of a higher rank,” Plinius conceded, a good-natured smile softening his features.
As the afternoon wore on, Plinius allowed himself to be carried along by the rhythmic ebb and flow of the celebration. He had given Appius the green light to execute his crafty plan, a decision fueled by the bitter conversation he'd had with his sister.
In fact, he had given Appius permission to go ahead with his devious plan right after the conversation: the way Irene had defended the Human had made Plinius sick. There was no excuse for her behavior—for treating her own flesh and blood like that.
Why would she defend the worm, anyway?
“So, [Sergeant],” Clementius, Appius’s fat underling, smiled, “how is it going with Flaminia?”
Appius suddenly elbowed the man to shut him up, already knowing that the relationship between his [Sergeant] and the pink-haired [Chef] had rotted.
“Not all things can blossom,” Plinius smiled, “I’ve set my sight on bigger goals, Clementius. Don’t worry about me too much. Instead, how about we order another round? On me!”
Everyone cheered endlessly.
…
Later that night
The door of Plinius' quarters creaked open, revealing the [Sergeant] stumbling in and struggling to keep his balance, the effects of copious amounts of ale making the room spin before his eyes. His booming laughter echoed off the stone walls as he quipped to himself, “Tomorrow, I might have to plead with a [Healer] and brew a health potion.”
He clumsily disrobed, his uniform crumpling into a heap on the floor. However, just as he was about to flop onto his bed, the harsh texture of unwashed linens met his touch. Sighing deeply, he navigated his way to a large, timeworn chest nestled at the foot of his bed, its wooden surface etched with the stories of countless past encounters.
Plinius rummaged through the chest, his fingers sifting through assorted knickknacks in search of fresh bedding. His hand suddenly grazed a forgotten object. "Huh?" he muttered, pulling out a small wooden sword. Caught off guard, he lost his balance, landing flat on his behind, the unexpected weight of nostalgia heavier than any physical blow.
“This…”
I remember this, he said, swinging the small sword.
He stared at the toy sword in his hands, its familiarity tugging at the corners of his lips, teasing out a melancholic smile. The wood felt comfortable in his grip, its worn edges whispering tales of a simpler time. He swung the miniature weapon through the air, the motion accompanied by a wave of poignant memories.
He had once been a young boy, filled with dreams of exploring the vast world, delving into mysterious dungeons, and rescuing imperiled villages from vicious beasts. He had yearned to root out dangerous cults plaguing the land—in short, he had always wanted to become an Adventurer.
He had always known he had a great talent with a sword and that he would have been suited for a career as an Adventurer. In fact, he had even thought about switching up a few times soon after he had joined the military. A [Soldier]’s life is anything but glamorous, even in its best moments.
Well, we did a good job today; Plinius forced himself to think positively.
Eventually, his smile turned sour as he stared at the sword for a bit longer before a frown eventually painted itself over his face.
“Stupid,” he scolded himself, his tone laced with regret. He glared at the toy sword, his eyes reflecting years of accumulated grief and disappointment. With a sudden burst of resolve, he seized the wooden sword with both hands and, with a swift, decisive motion, snapped it in two. Without a second thought, he tossed the remnants out of the window and into the night. He shrugged off the incident, his focus returning to his original quest of searching for a pair of clean sheets.
Not that there were any to find.